Imprecise
by M. Rhae
Summary: Precision is an art that Mitsuru knows well. But when it comes to relationships, how can one apply such quantitative, tangible measures? Sometimes, life is too gray for such black and white matters. Persona 3 FES. Mitsuru/Akihiko and Mitsuru/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Persona series or any correlating elements.**

_**A/N:**_ Hi everyone! This is a different kind of story that I've been thinking about for a while. We always read about Mitsuru/Akihiko or Mitsuru/Suitor, but what if things weren't always so black and white? What if they weren't so _precise? _Here's the start of some drabbles about Mitsuru falling both for Akihiko and a suitor. They're put into separate one-shots in a non-chronological order, and I hope to show how confused and utterly human Mitsuru can feel.

**I changed it up a bit since I lasted updated.**

Thanks for reading, and please write out a review to let me know what you think!

**Warning: A bit of sex in the last part. I don't think it's quite M rated, but it might be T+.**

**Imprecise**

**o1.**

As she fell on the surface of her feather-soft mattress, his mouth glued to hers as she wrestled impatiently with the string of his sweatpants, there was a knock on the door.

"Senpai?"

Mitsuru froze, Akihiko's lips moving to graze the side of her goose-bumped neck. She placed a hand on his mouth and shuddered as he playfully nipped at her fingers. His touch, be it to her face, waist, lips or even fingers, was enough to drive her wild. "Yes?"

Nudging him off of her, she pointed towards the closet and then re-buttoned her blouse, panting. She'd never had to recompose herself like this. Akihiko lingered as Mitsuru ran her fingers through her hair and then smoothed the wrinkles of her skirt. He slid off the bed after a sharp glance from the redhead, and she took a deep breath and then cleared her mind, trying not to panic.

With a mechanical smile put into place, she straightened one last crinkle and went over to her bedroom door, taking the handle and easing it open. Her heart pounded as she was intensely aware of Akihiko shuffling around in her closet, being what she considered unnecessarily loud and taunting.

"Sorry to bother you," said Yukari, "but there's someone really important here to see you."

The slightest of frowns etched into the corners of Mitsuru's porcelain face, but the brunette didn't seem to notice. As quickly as it appeared, Mitsuru shook off the facial expression and replaced it with her cool, intent gaze.

"I see. Do you happen to know his name?"

"Yeah. It's Victor," said Yukari. Mitsuru swallowed. "Victor Evergarde or something."

Mitsuru merely stared back, her ears trained towards the right side of her bedroom.

"Very well," she finally said, putting her hand back on the handle and then flashing another automatic smile. "Thank you for telling me. I'll be there soon. Let him know I just need to prepare myself."

Gazing at the redhead as though she wanted to speak again, Yukari dipped her head in return and then moved away from the mahogany door, tossing her one last look before she descended down the staircase. Mitsuru was glad that she didn't dawdle or linger.

And as Mitsuru closed the door, turning around to fall against the back, Akihiko came running over to her.

He pressed his soft, moist lips against Mitsuru's slightly parted mouth and placed a tender hand on the side of her head, the other taking hold of her waist. He leaned against her and positioned his body so that they were practically touching, and as Mitsuru smelled the cool tint of his cologne and felt the tiny prickle of his stubble, she felt her head spin and her stomach stir.

"Akihiko… Wait." It took every ounce of her self-control to break away from his lips.

"What," he mumbled, burying his face into the red swirl of her neck, his nose brushing against the edge of her collarbone. He knew that was her special spot.

Mitsuru listened to his accelerated breathing as he slid away her bra strap and kissed her bare, revealed shoulder, and she then felt his soft, tender touch as he moved along to her neck. She was aware of his arm weaved tightly around her waist, and she felt his other gingerly stroke the side of her head; she felt his body lean into hers, and she felt her own desire to completely melt into his arms.

As she experienced it all and stood there in the middle of it, a touch of pain entered the pits of her amber-brown eyes. She knew what she had to do, but she knew how hard it would be.

"He's here," she simply said, looking down at the plush surface of her carpet.

Lifting his head from her nest of curls, Akihiko stopped, staring up at her. "Victor?"

"Yes."

"Victor Evergarde?"

"Yes." She paused to gaze into the pools of his grey eyes. Very slowly, she placed her hand on the side of his face and gingerly caressed his ear. It wasn't much, she knew, but at least it was something.

For a moment, the two said nothing; for a moment, they merely stood close together and watched each other's faces. Mitsuru was icy cool and calm, and Akihiko was rock solid. She admired the way he held her gaze, with only the faintest trace of defiance nestled into his expression, and she loved how his eyes flickered back and forth over every single movement of her own expression.

But as she finally broke contact and edged over to her closet, she heard a noise from his direction that sent swords stabbing through her heart.

"Don't go."

Freezing in place, Mitsuru closed her eyes. She heard a single footstep along with a bit of a whine. "Please stay with me."

"I can't." Mitsuru turned to stare at him, her face contorted as she watched a few tears flow from his eyes. They were so beautiful yet so sad. "I really can't." The look he gave her made her shudder, and her eyes almost pooled with a few tears of her own. "I'm… Sorry, Akihiko. I really am."

Before she could go back to her closet, Akihiko was right at her side, his arm pulling her towards him. "I don't care what you have to do, Mitsuru. I want to be with you, and I will be no matter what."

He wrapped his arms around her, and Mitsuru fell into his embrace, her face tucked within his neck. He said a lot of things, she knew, but this time, she knew with certainty that he meant every word.

"I'll treat you better than any damn suitor can," he mumbled, kissing the top of her head. She looked up to stare into his eyes. "You'll see, Mitsuru. I promise."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was becoming typical for him to be late. Of all things in the world, tardiness was a quality that Mitsuru absolutely loathed. Tapping her foot impatiently on the cool, uneven ground of Iwatodai Station, she reflected upon all of her classmates and club members who were usually late. She didn't care much for them, and in all sincerity, it seemed like the late-comers would never amount to anything relatively important. It may seem like a rather trivial matter, but at least to Mitsuru, one's punctuality can truly say a lot about them.

"Mitsuru? Mitsuru Kirijo?"

Looking up, Mitsuru's eyes met the blue gaze of a tall, broad-shouldered blond wearing an onyx suit with a black leather bag draped casually over his shoulder. He grinned at her, his teeth white while just a little bit crooked, and Mitsuru noticed a little French flag pinned to the hem of his bag.

"Parlez-vous français?"

"Oui, " he said, his smile widening. "Je suis français, en fait. Je viens d'Angers, une petite ville près de la mer. C'est très belle… Comme tu." Mitsuru merely stared at him, and his face reddened a bit. She wondered if really meant to say that. "Je m'appelle Victor, et mon cousin est Bebe, qui va à Gekkokhaun avec tu. Est-ce que tu le connais?"

"I do know him," she said, wishing that he would leave, "but how do you know me?" She didn't really care at this point. She'd had enough experiences of being hit on, and they always resulted in utter pain and misery for her pursuer. But Victor was foreign and a relative of one of her mentees, so she felt obligated to be gentler, though she honestly wished that he hadn't called her beautiful. It always ruined the delicacies of conversations.

At this he smiled again, moving to sit beside her. His leg brushed the end of Mitsuru's skirt, and she edged away. She didn't like people touching her. _How _she wished she could just perform an execution.

"Everyone knows who you are, Mitsuru." His Japanese was a bit rough now that she heard him say more than just her name, but she could understand him well enough. "Also, we met in the past as well. Remember that ball your family had held last summer? My father and I attended since your company and ours are affiliated. Ours is in Kyoto, and he knows your father really good."

"Is that so?" Of course he had a connection to her father; _of course _now she couldn't afford to be rude.

"Indeed it is, dear lady." He laughed, and it was one of those light, genuine laughs that would encourage most people to start laughing themselves. It was warm, deep, and inviting, and his eyes crinkled and shone as well.

But Mitsuru was not most people. She simply watched him laugh and waited for him to finish. "I thought you looked familiar… Have you been coming to Kirijo Group meetings lately?" The more she looked at him, the more she did seem to recognize him. His hair was a very light shade of blond and his eyes were very blue, which were traits one didn't see every day. He was also rather stout and thickset. Not fat, but large, which again was a bit atypical for Asians. He actually did resemble Bebe quite a bit.

"Yes, I have been. My father is actually in Morocco right now, so he was wanting me to take over his participation here. My brother is in one of our headquarters in Quebec, and my mother is home in France."

"You have that many extensions?" Mitsuru asked, feeling impressed in spite of herself. She knew that the francophone culture was rather large and expansive, but she didn't expect such ties to stretch into Japan as well. The Kirijo Group was primarily a Japanese company, but Mitsuru knew that they had connections elsewhere. She also knew how tedious up-keeping everything was, and she wondered how Victor, who seemed rather laid-back and quite frankly irresponsible, was able to handle such pressures.

"La vie francophone has a lot of advantages, as I am sure you know. It is a hard thing to do, but we do it, and we like it."

"That's fascinating," she mused, making a mental note to ask her father the details on Victor's family's company. "How many total operations do you hav –"

"Hey, Mitsuru." With a flash of silver, Akihiko arrived, panting slightly. "Sorry I'm late. I had to talk to the team after practice, and it turned into a bit of a – Oh, hello. Who's this?"

He turned to look at Victor, who was now staring over at him. The Frenchman soon rose to shake his hand firmly. "I am Victor, a friend to you both. I am also a relative of Bebe." Mitsuru watched as Akihiko stared blankly at him, probably trying to figure out who Bebe was. Mitsuru knew him through her connections with the French Club, but she knew Akihiko had the cultural diversity of a pea. "I saw Mitsuru and thought I would say hello. And now, I think I should be saying goodbye."

He shook Akihiko's hand once more and then took Mitsuru's, kissing the top with a slight brush of his lips. He looked into her eyes as he did so, and Mitsuru felt a suppressed rush of annoyance mingled with something else.

"Au revoir, mademoiselle. Et monsieur."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Mademoiselle! 'Allo!"

Turning from her perch by the window, Mitsuru turned to see Victor entering the coffee shop, smiling as he walked over to her. Today he wore a silk shirt tucked into his sleek black pants, and his foreignness was completely evident. The fact made her amused enough to smile, but she held it back.

"Hello, Victor," she said, a little surprised as he pulled up a chair to sit by her. "How are you?"

"Oh well, very well. Just came here to do a bit of reading. Is it fine if I join you?"

Mitsuru knew that there really wasn't any reason to object, so she let him, trying to ignore him as she finished crunching the numbers for the Student Counsel's budget. He was quiet enough, letting out a light laugh from time to time, so he didn't really bother her. She didn't know why he asked to join her when they both clearly had their own agendas to attend to, but it wasn't her problem.

When she finally finished, she put her papers back into her bag and then stood up, pausing while staring at Victor.

He too looked up, and blue eyes catching amber, he smiled. "Is that it, then? You are finished?"

"Yes," said Mitsuru, not sure where he was going with this. "Thank you for your company, but I have to go."

As she turned to leave, he said "but I thought you would want to know more about my father's business?"

He had her there. She stopped, turning back around. She _was _extremely interested in how they managed all of their various headquarters (father admitted he didn't know much about them except for the fact that their world image was renown and highly-respected, much like theirs), so she _would _like to stay and hear all about it.

But she was supposed to meet Akihiko back at the dorms for dinner…

"I suppose I can talk for a little while." She sat down across from him, pulling out her cellphone. She couldn't get a signal; she'd have to just tell Akihiko later.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

His bed was warm, and his touch was gentle. Mitsuru felt herself sigh as he ran his hand along the side of her face, stopping short at her lips and then moving in to gently caress them with his own. In a lot of ways he was clumsy and awkward, but even as they embarked on this heated, flying quest, he still remained a true blue gentleman, which made Mitsuru smile.

"Es-tu confortable, ma chère?" he asked, his breath lingering on her right ear. Mitsuru signed again and turned to face him, finding herself lost in his swimming blue eyes. She was topless, he was shirtless, and of all moments, he chose now to check in with her.

"Yes," she murmured, closing her eyes again as he continued to kiss her down across her neck. She sighed once more, marveling at the warmth of his body pressed so close to hers. "Yes, Victor."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The door slammed as he came back into the lounge, moving to stand in front of the ornate armchair perched by the glass case. "Where were you?"

Her eyes shifting from the page of her book over to Akihiko's face, which burned red and flushed, Mitsuru merely stared at him, her lips pursed.

It always came down to this. More often than not lately, Mitsuru and Akihiko would go round-and-round on nothing more than a circular version of the blame game. Everything was the other's fault, and nothing was working; there was always something wrong, and nothing was able to explicitly fix it.

"I waited for you for half an hour, Mitsuru," Akihiko raged, coming to stand directly in front of her. He had thrown his varsity jacket down on the sofa, but he still had on his patched leather gloves. They were his gloves meant for wearing outside in the cold of winter, but there was still something powerful and dominating about them. Mitsuru think she might have even seem him wear them at Tartarus.

"Such a shame that you had to feel that sensation for once," Mitsuru finally responded, moving to stand up and cross her arms. Her eyes bore into his, and beneath the flashing blaze of annoyance, she also detected betrayal and disappointment. "All I ever do is wait for you. I sit prettily on the bench in the gym or stand adoringly by the doors while you finish up practice." She moved forward, feeling every ounce of frustration starting to compile and spill from her lips. "Did it ever occur to you that perhaps I'm fed up with waiting? Did you ever fathom how maybe it's simply not fair to me?"

Akihiko was staring at her, his grey eyes wider than she'd ever seen them, but she just couldn't stop. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe I just can't do this anymore?"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

She thought of him the entire time. Gasping and moaning as Victor slid and thrust inside of her, she thought of his silver hair and his matching eyes, so sharp and intense in the heat of battle yet so mild and soft in the heat of their love. She thought of the first time they kissed back in the tenth grade, and she thought of the first time he had touched her hair during their third date. He was oh so tender, and as she lay there draped in another man's arms and filled with another man's love, she wanted him more than anything.

_But this feels good _said another voice nestled deep within her core. Panting as Victor took a break, rolling over to bury his face into her chest, Mitsuru stopped to think about it. _You're doing something just because you _can. _You're having a lot of fun._

He was back on top of her, and Mitsuru was momentarily lost in a euphoria of bliss as his manhood touched her every soft spot. Somehow, he knew exactly what to do and exactly where to go, and as Mitsuru entwined her fingers into his hair and started thrusting with her hips, she couldn't remember a time where she'd felt so amazingly happy.

Again, a flash of silver and a shade of grey crossed her mind. Laying there, Victor Evergarde pushing his entirety inside of her, Mitsuru didn't seem to know what she wanted.

* * *

Thanks for reading! How do you like Victor the Frenchman? Is he too cheesy, too cliche; too fake? Please let me know so I can improve!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Persona series or any correlating elements.**

_**A/N: **_Hi there! Here are some more drabbles. I don't really feel good about this, so I'd appreciate any feedback on how I can improve or how to handle this. I feel like it's such a delicate, subtle subject, and I really want to preserve and highlight the whirling emotions of Mitsuru. I also don't know how I feel about my OC. Any suggestions with him are welcome as well! Thanks for reading :)

* * *

_**o2.**_

"I'm… Sorry." And she was. From the bottom of her breaking heart, Mitsuru was sorry. Sorry for the affair, sorry for her negligence; sorry for everything.

But in all sincerity, feeling sorry about something couldn't take it back. Also, it couldn't fix or change the delicacies of things, which she knew full-heartedly.

Yet still, this glimmer of hope burned inside of her. Looking into the light grey of his eyes, her entire heart on the line, a part of her still wished that he could somehow possibly understand.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The library was her sanctuary. In the early hours of the morning when most people were still sleeping, Mitsuru would be busy reading business reports, completing various calculations, drafting essays, or simply thinking about her day's actions. She always had a grueling amount of homework along with Kirijo Group, SEES, Student Council, and French Club matters to take care of, yet in her opinion, she never seemed to be doing enough. With all that she carried on her shoulders, she felt increasingly guilty and ashamed that she wasn't doing more. She always felt the need to press on, even when she was pressed close to her limit.

Sighing, she opened her calculus textbook, staring down at the title of chapter seven. _Multivariable differentiation. _It didn't look too hard, and Mitsuru knew that she had probably learned it already. She used certain principles of optimization and integration all the time with her work for the Kirijo Group, so it really wasn't anything to be concerned with.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mitsuru saw a girl settle down at a table, her book bag stuffed to the brim and bulging out a bit. The girl lifted the flap and pulled out two large books, a few pieces of paper, and a silver pen. Taking a moment to run a hand through her short, slightly disheveled hair, she yawned slightly before opening a book and peering over its contents, her pen and paper ready.

For some reason, this girl deeply intrigued Mitsuru. She watched how her focus was trained stolidly on her textbook and was broken only every few minutes when she would write something down, her hand quick and thorough. She had tucked her light brown hair behind her ears, and Mitsuru could see her cheap earrings glinting in their sockets, matching her seemingly second-hand quality uniform.

From Mitsuru's perspective, she was the most beautifully ordinary person she had ever seen. Her life seemed to be comprised of nothing more than being a diligent student; her life seemed to be exactly as it should be. Watching this girl, Mitsuru realized how awfully compressed and exuberant her own life was. Running from meeting-to-meeting and official-to-official, she was more like a CEO than a student. She was there at the library out of necessity, not out of desire to be a productive, hard-working student. Yet this girl, whoever she was and wherever she came from, looked to be the pivot of perfection in the sense of how a student should live their life.

To Mitsuru, she looked to be what she herself could be if only the entire world wasn't weighing on her shoulders.

"At what are you looking, mademoiselle?"

Out of nowhere, it seemed, Victor was there, his blue eyes glinting at her with amusement. Surprised, Mitsuru jumped a little bit, and she took a minute to gather her thoughts. She was caught off guard. What was he doing in the school library at seven o'clock in the morning? Was he even permitted to be there?

"I am giving a guest speech in one of the classrooms," he explained, smiling slightly. Mitsuru stared back. "I was thinking I would come in here to prepare, and here I find you! It must be fate, mon petit chou."

Fate? Mitsuru laughed just then. Of all things in the world, fate was something she knew well, and _he _couldn't possibly understand. Not at all.

"Fate controls us all in the end," he continued, his smile fading as he gazed intently at her. "You are not wishing to fight destiny, are you?"

"Of course not." Mitsuru shook her head slightly and closed her book. She glanced back over at the girl, who was shifting in her seat a little bit. Mitsuru wondered if she and Victor's conversation had broken through her concentration.

"You are leaving so soon? Let me help you." Victor rose from his seat to pull out Mitsuru's chair before moving to grab her coat.

"I'm fine." Mitsuru went to take her coat, and her hand landed instead on Victor's. It was soft, warm, and smooth, and even for the brief half-second of contact, Mitsuru felt some sort of current run through her.

Brushing it off, she took her coat and then turned away, making for the exit.

"Wait! Arretez, s'il vous plait!" He swept over to her, his cologne washing over her nostrils with his sudden movement. "Can I see you again sometime soon? Perhaps after you get done with school?"

Mitsuru really didn't have time for this. She really didn't. Looking at him with his dark blue jeans and his pressed tan sweater, she knew that she just didn't have time.

_Don't lie. _Mitsuru frowned a little bit, feeling slightly chilled as that voice drifted through to her senses. _You want to see him again, but you don't want to admit it._

_ No. _Mitsuru swallowed an uncomfortable lump in her throat. _It's not like that._

_ But it is. His father owns a Western-oriented company that's starting to take root here. Even your father admitted that he'd like for you to get to know him._

_ But not like _that…

_Are you so sure?_

And suddenly, it all dawned on her. Victor's insistence, his uncanny ability to know where she is, her father's uncharacteristically encouraging attitude about him…

Mitsuru was being set up, and she had been too weak and too stupid to notice.

"Mitsuru?" He was standing very close to her, and she hated how his eyes creased in exceptionally well-practiced compassion. "Are you alright? Did I say something bad?"

"No." Mitsuru took a deep breath, her mind whirling as everything seemed to swirl around her. "I'm fine, thank you. And I'm busy today, but I'll call you later to let you know when I'm available."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, as if surprised, but then smoothed them down again, his face breaking into a smile. "C'est excellent! I am looking forward to it, Mitsuru. Can I walk you to your classroom now?"

"Sorry, but I'm in a bit of a hurry." She turned away and was out the door.

When it came down to it, people always thought ice to be one of the most solid, chilling forces of the earth. They thought it to be resilient to the cold and a master at composure. But what they didn't realize was how easily it could melt; what they didn't realize was how even ice sometimes wanted to cry.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"You have to." His face was firm, and as Mitsuru looked at him, she understood how serious it all was. "There's no reason against it, Mitsuru. I've let you live free enough for far too long. This time, _you have to._"

Mitsuru turned away, looking outside the window. Rain was starting to fall, and droplets seemed to be throwing themselves against the stained glass, mercilessly squashing to oblivion and trickling down. "Yes, father."


End file.
